The Harry and Draco Drabbles
by nuttymeggie
Summary: A bunch of non-connected drabbles/onshots that are inspired by songs on my shuffe. A better feel of my rules are on the inside. All Harry/Draco. T because I know there's no mature stuff but I dunno about the swearing...
1. Enter Sandman

Shuffle-y Thing I Swore Never to Attempt, with a couple of different rules. I simply played the song though as many times as it took to complete the one-shot/drabble and added the play count number to the title. But they're inspired by the song, of course.

**1. Enter Sandman, Metallica (Played three times through, 7:27)**

The war was devastating. It took everything. It still is devastating, actually. It's been going for three years now, with Voldemort still trying to "gain strength" and not to look as though he didn't want the all-powerful Harry Potter to kill his sorry ass.

I still remember the last time I saw my love. He tucked me in as if it was the most important thing to him, idiotic and it still warms my heart. He's so...I still want him. I want him to return. He's been on the chase, but to no avail. He's been gone...two months, almost. Three, maybe. If I round up. But I miss him so. I sleep every night praying to keep him safe from the worthless war, started by madness. It's so...

I still sleep with one eye open, despite being the last one, the only one...the light leaves me and I'm still half-afraid my father will come in and kill me for...killing him. But still, I am safe, this time...

Enter night. Again. Even as he left, leaving me all alone, nowhere to go. It comes in every night, and every night I curse that he left me. A sound, a soft creak, but I know the house-elves, the ones that insisted on staying, have already long gone to sleep. As should I. But it creaks again, and I open on eye, trying to convince myself that it was nothing.

Strong arms encircle mine. Familiar, strong arms. I seize up for the barest of seconds, and I look at him in amazement.

He's filthy. And covered in blood, and other unidentifiable liquids and powders. Maybe a couple potions that could never effect him. He squeezes me, and I can tell he's trembling.

"Harry?" I ask, bewildered. He kisses me, long and hard and fast, but I break away. "I...you...we...you left me!" I punch him, lightly and stick my tongue out at him.

"I had to. I had to keep you safe. I couldn't..." he trails off. He grins, kissing me again. "It's over.

"The War, everything...he's dead."

I start. I had never imagined, even though I had so much faith in the man in front of me. It had always seemed just out of reach. But to hear it come out of his mouth, firm and resolute. I smash my lips to him.

He stands me up, and holds out his hand and he sinks to the ground. He holds out his palm, and the imprint of the silver band is etched in his palm. "Take my hand. Please. Let me take your hand. Marry me." My eyes fill with silent tears. I nod, and he slides the ring on, perfectly.

"I've kept it for months, even before...I didn't want to before I had to...leave...didn't want to give you hope that might be crushed," he says quietly. I kiss him again, and he smiles. He takes my hand, and his eyes, bright and warm, fill me with heat, and hope. More hope for this world than I've had for all my life. "Come on, then. Let's go back to the battleground. I Apparated before they even registered what I'd done."

I smile, and I'm sure I'm positively radiating with happiness. I squeeze the hand I took hold of, and we leave to rediscover the world I've never even dared to dream of.


	2. A Million Ways to be Cruel

**2. A Million Ways, OK Go (Four times, which is one more than the other one, but that song (or the version I was listening to) was twice the time of this. Ha. 3:13)**

The party was in full swing. Another party, despite how much partying had already gone on right after the end of the War. Even people "fighting" for the Dark side partied, and had countless more parties than what the plebeians who actually won the war. It seemed that they were only mocking the orders done for the leader that held Soul Stones for their lives, and they didn't actually care about the outcome, though wanted the madman dead.

And so the party progressed. Even at Hogwarts, which had knitted itself back together instantly after the fall of all of the Dark, and which everyone stayed to repeat their years (this was mostly to accommodate the Golden Trio who decided (or were forced by one specific member of the Trio) to take their year over) had an inter-house gathering every Saturday night in the Great Hall.

This one was by far the smokiest of them all, or at least in Draco's opinion. He was in the midst of repeating his year as well, and was getting some more spiked punch, thanks to the quick thinking of none other than Pansy herself. There was magical fog everywhere, and everyone decided to go black tie without tie.

He seemed to be the only person wearing a colour other than black for once, clad in acid wash skinny jeans and a button down white shirt with dark green converse. He had become enamoured with muggle clothing, real muggle clothing and is always looking at the new styles and the creativity of the clothing.

He was currently scowling at someone on the dance floor, dancing with Ginny Weasley, attached at the pelvis with her, in fact. Harry Potter, resident Savior of all Wizarding kind, tearing up the dance floor with the ginger bint, and looking like he was thoroughly enjoying himself while doing it.

He was dressed in tight black dragonhide pants that shimmered when he moved his hips to the music, black combat boots, and low v-neck too-tight shirt with a positively sinful black fishnet shirt over top it. To complete his look, he straight ironed his unruly hair and added a dark green to it, and rimmed his eyes in black. But the best part was the dark lipcolour he had put on, making his lips shine and pout.

Draco slugs back his drink, looking on at the scene with envy. _Too bad he's straight, _he thinks with a touch of bitterness. _A million ways to be cruel..._


	3. Aftermath

**3. Aftermath, Adam Lambert (4:24, played ten times because I type a lot faster than I longhand (and try to longhand legibly) and this was like...5AM. After staying up all night.)**

There was something to be said about a good, clean end to a war. Not that there was really much clean about it, but in the scheme of things, if at the end of the battle a Dark Lord is dead, that's clean.

There were many damages, of course. Harry saw so many families crying and wailing...he turns away in sorrow, but reminds himself that he can't be responsible for everyone. He couldn't. He can't. There were so many crying...he surveys the room. Mr and Mrs. Weasley, Andromeda, Ginny...all crying. Ron, Hermione, the Malfoy's. "What could they be upset about?" Harry muses, noticing all three of them were there relatively unscathed.

At that precise moment Draco looks up, gazing at Harry. Compelled, he approaches the teen. His grey, silver eyes, really, look...haunted was far too gentle a word for it, and Harry can see even from this distance his lips are turning blue. But what was there to be haunted about? He wasn't...there wasn't anything to fear anymore. Voldemort was dead.

"Draco?" Narcissa asks her son. "Draco?" When he continues to stare out, not blinking, not moving a muscle, his blue lips parted slightly to allow the movement of air but little else, almost screaming she calls his name again.

But still he stares ahead at Harry, motionless, frozen.

"Lucius!" Narcissa cries, grabbing his arm. "Draco!"

"Draco," Lucius says firmly. "Snap out of it." But still Draco remains motionless.

Harry curses the enormity of and the amount of people, both living and dead, that are in his way, in between him and _his_ Draco.

Their fights escalated an enormous amount in school, until somebody threw a punch one day, alone in a corridor,. They had pushed past the boundaries, touching, feeling, moving against on another in perfect rhythm, It went from there.

Finally Harry reaches Draco's side, and sits next to where he's kneeling on the hard floor. His parents exchange glances but say nothing.

"Draco," Harry says quietly. Draco doesn't blink. "Draco, Draco, oi! Malfoy!"

Harry puts his hand on on Draco's cheek and he flinches, finally looking right at Harry. "Draco," Harry says again. "We're here." A single tear rolls down Draco's face.

"We're here," Draco repeats. "In the aftermath." He turns his entire face towards Harry's, searching his eyes. "Merlin, you're beautiful."

Harry starts, but smiles shyly. "I can't match to you." Draco attempts a smile, but instead he sobs. Harry's smile grows softer, and he opens his arms to Draco's trembling form. His tears run rampart down his cheeks, and Harry holds him tight, stroking his too-soft hair, like downy feathers, Harry thinks.

"It's okay. Yesterday is over with. Today...we'll take today together, okay? Don't think about yesterday. You'll be alright. We'll be alright. Together. Shh..." Harry makes soothing noises to Draco's sobbing and shaking, and Draco clutches his biceps while he buries his face in Harry's shoulder, caked with blood. "You don't have to be alone anymore. We're together. I promise."

Draco calms down under Harry's ministrations, and he shakily smiles. "No more hiding?"

"I wouldn't let you keep us behind more closed doors," Harry says. "As long as we have each other."

"We'll never be apart," Draco declares softly.

Narcissa senses the moment between her son and what she suspected to be her future son-in-law and tugs her husband away. She goes over to her estranged sister, and puts a hesitant hand on her back.

"I'm sorry," Narcissa says simply, and Andromeda grabs her for a hug which Narcissa returns in kind.

"You're a great-aunt," Andromeda says. "Teddy Lupin."

"He's one of us," Narcissa says. "Whatever he needs, he has. We'll get it, buy it, bribe it...whatever he needs."

"Teddy...we can't get him parents, Cissy!" Andromeda sobs. "Remus and Nymphadora...damn it!" She continues to sob.

Draco looks at Harry, simply gazing at him. "What is it?"Harry asks jokingly. "Something on my face?" Draco shakes his head.

"You're incredible," Draco says. "And I love you." Harry smiles, almost a smirk, and Draco lightly cuffs him. "Arrogance does nothing for you," he sniffs, and that's when Harry knows Draco will be okay, despite...all of the war, and everything that's happened.

"I know," Harry says. "I've been in love with you for...I love you." He kisses the drying tear tracks on Draco's face, eradicating them from existence. "I love you."

[PAGE BREAK!]

Eleven Years Later:

"Da! Come on!" An excited voice calls to Harry. "What are you doing just standing there?"

"I know, I know, I'm coming Teddy," Harry says. He nods to Draco, walking a couple feet in front of him, oblivious. "I was just admiring the view."

Teddy pulls a ridiculous face and Harry laughs. "I hear about what you and Dad do. Uncle George told me," Teddy says. Draco turns at the shift in conversation and comes over.

"Uncle George did what now?" Draco asks dryly. "Do I need to beat him for it?"

"He told me you guys were jumping on the bed!" Teddy says accusingly. "Without me!" Harry and Draco exchange looks. The sex talk had not quite made it into polite conversation, or even lewd conversation. "Don't tell me he was lying!"

"Of course we'll-er-try not to anymore," Harry says, and Draco nods earnestly.

"Good!" Teddy says, his hair changing from the exasperated yellow color to the normal turquoise, tipped with bright orange excitement. The train whistles and Teddy jumps. "I gotta go!" He hugs Draco tightly around the waist, and then Harry. "I'll come home for Christmas!"

"You better!" Draco says enthusiastically. "We'll write loads!" Teddy nods happily.

"I love you, Dad! I love you, Da!" Teddy says with another bright smile. He runs to the train, and turning to wave at what he considered the best parents in the world.

Andromeda had entrusted care of Teddy with Harry and Draco even before their marriage in the December after the end of the War, and they had both formally adopted Teddy as one of their own. His six-year-old brothers, Scorpius and Albus, were at Hermione's and Ron's house on a play date with their daughter Rose, who was also six.

"Don't forget to write to your grandmother!" Draco calls as the train was pulling away. Teddy gives him a thumbs-up, and Draco grins. They watch as the train pulls around the bend, and then Harry twines his arms around Draco's waist.

"Let's go home," Harry says. "Ron said he'd watch Scorp and Albus until we came around for supper." Draco turns to give his husband a long, lingering kiss.

All was well.


	4. Bruises

**, Sugarcult (2:33, played four times through.)**

Their love was never roses, kisses and sunset endings to a perfect night. No, their love was an ugly, violent, secret thing, and yet, as lovely as you could ever manage. They were the happiest couple behind closed doors, and they never wanted it to change.

So when Harry decided to pursue Ginny, two broken ribs and a concealed black eye was Draco's way of telling him that no matter what, Harry would be his.

And when Draco and Pansy started seeing each other, the limp in his step for a week and the colorful array of bruises on his chest was Harry's way of telling him not to be an idiot.

And when Harry left Ginny, the carefully bandaged wrist was Draco's way of telling him he wasn't really sorry for Harry's loss.

And when Pansy left Draco rather violently, the carefully salved cuts from where Pansy scratched him was Harry's was of saying, "That bitch will never leave a mark on you like I will."

And when Draco had to marry Astoria Greengrass to restore his family to the power it once was, Draco's regrown teeth was Harry's way of whispering he'll always love him despite what other bonds he has to be shackled to.

And Harry's marriage to Ginny with a purplish cheek and broken ankle was Draco's way of saying, "Ditto."

And when they both had what they wanted, a son and a family, and each other, they knew any other way of reaching that point would have been wrong. What they had was real and despite what ignorant things they wanted with each other, promises that always were made with fingers crossed, they would never leave each other, because they loved each other too much.

They had the bruises to prove it.


	5. Break Your Little Heart

**5. Break Your Little Heart, All Time Low (2:51, played seven times though)**

Harry was seething. He was practically radiating errant magic, and if the Burrow wasn't as fortified as it was, he might have literally brought the house down.

"What. The. Fuck. Is. This?" He yells at Ginny. He slams down the paper, and on the cover shows him on his knees, apparently popping "the question" to Ginny. She sniffs with disdain.

"Our engagement. Someone must have caught the moment. You were never one to do things very secretively," she says dismissively. "Now, about the wedding..."

"What wedding? There was never a wedding planned!" Harry shouts. It was a good thing there was no one home. "There wasn't even a dinner!"

"Yes there was. And you asked my hand in marriage," Ginny says innocently.

"What are you going on about?" Harry asks impatiently. "We both know I never was going to marry you!"

"Darling?" she gasps.

"What kind of scene have you come up with now?" he asks. "What have you deluded you into thinking?"

"You want to marry me! You love me!" Ginny says.

"I most definitely do not," Harry says. "We both know who I married, and he's definitely not a girl, much less you."

"But, but..." Ginny says, looking down, tears starting to form in her eyes. "Why do you insist on sprouting these lies?"

"These aren't lies! I'm going to whoever put this in the paper and ripping their heads off, and insisting on a retraction with the truth," Harry says. "You know we aren't going to work. You know why."

"Harry! Harry darling, I don't know what's gotten into your head, but..." Ginny says. "We're getting married! Why aren't you excited!"

"Because you bought your own damn ring and tried to make it look like I proposed, and then leaked it to the papers so I'll agree. I never thought you to be that underhanded," Harry says with disgust. "You make me sick."

"Break my heart, why don't you?" Ginny says, tears now freely falling down her face. "Please, don't do this, love, I'll do anything!"

"Don't be so sentimental. This wasn't real love," Harry says with disdain. Just then, green flashes and Mrs. Weasley comes out of the fireplace.

"What's all this?" she asks. "What's the matter love?"

"Harry called off the wedding!" Ginny cries. Mrs. Weasley sighs. 

"I'm sorry about that, Ginny darling," she says, turning towards Harry. "I don't know how she got out to the papers, Harry, please forgive her. I'll keep a better watch on her. You know how she is."

"I know," Harry mutters. "She was kept so well under wraps that they still think she's..."

"Of course," Mrs. Weasley says.

"I tried not to get angry, but I need this to be put straight. Draco was furious," Harry says. "He put me on the couch tonight, despite the fact we've been married for four years now. Git still gets insecure and when it hit papers..."

"I'm so sorry," Molly says, patting him on the head. "Ginny, time your medication, dear."

"No!" She screeches. "Not until Harry admits it!" She starts screaming, and Harry looks pained. After the Final Battle, they found Ginny alone, looking lost. She was hit with a spell after being fed a potion, the combination a deterioration of her mind, rendering the loss of all sanity. It caused her to "fill in the blanks" and she was often delusional about her and Harry's relationship, though never this badly to it hit the papers. A Calming Potion soothes it, making her less...but it still couldn't totally stop it.

"Ginerva Weasley!" Molly commands. "Take it!" A fat tear running down her face, she swallows the medication, laced with a Sleeping Potion. "Go back to Draco, dear. I'm sure he'll apologize." Harry sighs and gets up, hugging Molly before going to the fireplace and leaving for home.

[BREAK!]

"Harry?" Draco calls when the tinkling sound of the fireplace chimes through the Manor. "Come home yet, love?"

"Yeah," Harry says, flopping down into a chair. Draco goes over to him, rubbing his shoulder. "Just had a row with Ginny."

"Oh? And how is Miss Weasley today?" Draco asks, eyebrow arched. "Was she sorry about the headlines?"

"Not at all. As usual," Harry says. "I'm sorry, baby," he adds, turning to his husband. "I don't know how she managed to leave the Burrow."

"I know," Draco says. "And how does Mr. Potter-Malfoy feel about this predicament?"

"Mr. Potter-Malfoy is heartily sorry, and profusely hopes that Mr. Malfoy-Potter is willing to forgive him for the actions of one Miss Weasley," Harry says huskily, dragging Draco into his lap.

He smirks. "You know how to make it up to me." With that, he's dragged down into a kiss, and all thoughts of a newspaper article out the window as Harry Apparates them to the bedroom.


	6. Tiffany Blews

**6. Tiffany Blews, Fall Out Boy (3:44, played four times.)**

_Oh, Merlin..._ Were the first words that came to Draco's mind. Harry Potter was an enigma to him. He always seemed to be stuck in caterpillar mode, waiting for someone to help him out. Not that he was ugly like a caterpillar. He just never seemed to get out of the ideas he cultivated when he was a child. _Like he was evil... _he shook it off, and continued to stare.

How or even why he did this was a question in itself. He never seemed to be the type to cross-dress, not that it was against the rules by any means, now that they no longer had to wear uniforms. Just had to wear their house badge, and a black over robe, and that was good enough. But _God...!_

He was simply dressed, classically dressed, in a little black sheath dress with a v-neck, not too revealing of anything he didn't have. He was of a slender build, no broad shoulders and thick muscle to mar the beauty he made in female clothing, and has hips that filled out the silhouette nicely. His thin, long long legs with feet strapped into black strappy heels, not too much of a heel, but enough of one for him. God, his legs could break a motorcycle in half.

His hair had grown in waves, gentle curls, with bangs and contacts as not to cover his green eyes, entirely too green, but entirely too perfect. His hair was left loose, framing his face, just brushing his shoulders, his lips in a perfect pout.

Draco's mouth started to water. He was perfect, timeless, classic, like a faded moon he shined in the room, lit it up in fact. Despite the fact it was breakfast, he already had a craving for something that wasn't on the menu. He carefully brushes his mouth and divests it of crumbs, and carefully picked his way over the mixed tables of all houses to go over to Potter, perfect little Potter, who even in his heels was still shorter than him, and looked up at him in surprise.

"What?" Potter asks, his black rimmed eyes widening in surprise. At this Draco pauses. He was usually one for words, but at the sight of Potter like that, no, _Harry_ like that, he was devoid of all words. "Malfoy?" 

"Call me Draco," he blurts. "Can I call you Harry?"

"You've always been welcome," Harry asks. "Is that all?"

"No, uhm..." Draco trails off, the splattered blush he loathed coming over his features, and he coughs slightly. "I was wondering if you had a date to Hogsmeade weekend."

"No..." Harry says, the confusion in his perfect green eyes slowly clicking to something that Draco couldn't quite place. "Are you...?" Draco nods, his blush still too horrifying for words, and Harry lights up. "I thought you'd never ask! Hermione suggested something radical, and I was skeptical about this...but it's worked!"

"What?" Draco asks, mirroring Harry's previous confused look. "You've been...?" Harry nods, excited.

"I like you," Harry says, a slight blush creeping onto his features, making him look adorable. "I've always liked you. You've just insulted in my first real friend, and it was sort of rash to do that. I got over that _ages_ ago, but I never knew you did, too!" He grins, kissing Draco's cheek on his tiptoes. "I'm so glad!"

Now Draco's blush had permanently taken up residence on his cheekbones, along with a smudge of Harry's lipstick.

"Well, uhm, yeah..." Draco stammers.

"Will you go out with me? Proper, as a boyfriend?" Harry asks, his eyes hopeful. Draco can't speak, so he quickly nods, his hair falling into his eyes. Harry grins, leaning up fully and kissing him on the mouth.

_Oh yes, _Draco thinks hazily. _Harry Potter was indeed an enigma..._


	7. Bye Bye Baby

**8. Bye Bye Baby, OK Go (2:14, played eight times through...but it's a really short song. -.-)**

"Then, I'll be seeing you," Draco says with an offhand look back to Harry as he walks out the door. Harry sits, the same position as he's sit as Hermione and Ron left him, too, off to lucrative careers in Creature Rights and the WWW, and leaving him behind. And now even Draco! Off to model who knows what, who knows where, and leaving Harry behind.

"Bye bye baby," Harry whispers, after the door has shut and Harry is alone once again.

[BREAK!]

"Hollywood has never looked better," a gossiper says, with an obvious look at Harry. He walked down the American Boulevard, ignoring everyone and everything, including the snow falling. "Definitely not."

Harry had spent the last five years, since the week after Draco had left him, building up a career in acting. He was very good at it, and he moved to Hollywood. He was lead in three major blockbuster hits, and he was in yet another, with two more planned. He drowned himself in his work, and the parties, and the bodies crowded around him. He was something of a phenomenon on the silver screen, actually.

He walks down the street, as he usually does, just to walk and see what there is to see. He was rich, the American dollars that he's amassed more than he'd ever seen. And he had lots of friends, all disloyal and not what his old friends were at all. But he didn't see them anymore. In fact, he hadn't seen Europe or the Daily Prophet for at least three years, maybe four.

But he needed this. He was alive in the movies and the way people had to act, and move, and they way it all came out like taking a breath.

"Harry!" a voice calls. "It's winter! What are you doing outside like that?" He turns towards the voice, and sighs and goes in.

"Just thinking," he says.

"Think inside, where's it's warm!" she says, scolding her charge. Marietta White, his faithful agent and friend, a bustling red-haired woman who was only five years older than Harry. She had an energy no one could surpass, probably due to the tremendous amount of caffeine she drank on a daily basis.

"I can't," Harry says. "I get all cooped up and then I can only think about leaving." Mari clucks at him, and gets him a coffee, the only thing he couldn't give up, even though it reminded him of...him.

"Well, I have a job for you. They want you to model!" Harry looks up sharply. "That's the same reaction I had, dear. But I said you'd do it all the same. It's nothing too racy or off-colour and it's just print-work, at any rate. So you'll be on a plane to Paris before the week is out!" 

Harry sighs, and takes another drag of his coffee. "Really, Mari? I still have that movie..."

"Which is taking a month-long recess, and it's not a breach of contract to take another job during the recess as long as it's over before the break is over. And this will be over, with another week to spare! Hey, you could jump over to England and see family, or friends," Mari says. Harry shoots her a look. "Or not."

"If you insist. I've never had reason to doubt you before," Harry says. He chucks his coffee. "I'm going home." Mari waves him off, and he goes back to his apartment to think.

[BREAK!]

Paris had a light dusting of snow. It was very pretty, and it reminded him of home. He goes to the hotel, and switches on his mobile, leaving a message for Mari that he made it. It was still morning in Paris, and he had a meeting with the designer at noon. He wasn't tired. He was still more used to this time than Hollywood time, and was perfectly refreshed, despite hours on a plane.

He changed clothes and walked downstairs, noting that it was just around ten. He gets breakfast, and a coffee and waits.

[BREAK!]

Harry was in shock. He was partnered up with another man, but it was_ who_ the other man was that left him...in shock. Draco strutted on stage, and didn't even blink an eye when he saw Harry. After getting ready, he draped himself over Harry like it was nothing. And Harry could still remember when Draco did this just because he wanted to.

"Harry," Draco says. "We'll talk tonight. But right now, you aren't doing your job. Which would be quite nice to do right now." With that, Harry reluctantly puts all his questions to the back of his mind, and turns towards the camera.

By the end of the day, they had exhausted nine rolls of film on four different outfits, and the designer, almost keening with delight, had said they could skip tomorrow's work as they were doing so well.

Harry grabbed Draco's hand as soon as they were finished, and drags him out into the snow. "Where are we going?"

"My apartment here," Draco says with a shrug. "Big Hollywood star you are, you probably get attention wherever you'd want to eat. I have food though. Let's go." Harry lets him lead, and they walk in silence, until they reach Draco's small apartment studio. Draco stiffens, then turns around to see Harry's bewildered gaze.

His movies...all of his movies, not just the ones where he'd starred in the lead...were on the coffee table, and there were magazines and newspapers scattered about where he'd been interviewed or talked about.

"Draco...?" Harry asks, terribly confused and not bothering to hide it. "What is...?"

"It wasn't just a fling," Draco bursts out. Harry flinches, remembering the similar words Draco had said in their worst, and final fight. "I..."

"It wasn't that I was selfish or scared, or that I was unprepared for after the war," Harry says. "I just needed you. But you left..."

"I..." Draco repeats, still at a loss for words. They had a small hurricane of an affair, hardly even a relationship after the end of the war, and they had both thrived. But then Draco left, without hardly an explanation. "I just...I was seventeen!" Draco finally shouts. "I was seventeen, involved in the losing side of the war, I was scared, and selfish, and _so_ unprepared, and...I didn't think it would ever end, much less that I'd be with you, and that...I didn't know what to do." He pauses, a ragged sigh.

"I didn't think...couldn't hope for...a happy ending with you. You were so sudden...I couldn't grow out of my childish thoughts that I'd have to go, I had to move on because that's what I was trained to do, move on because I'd have to do my fucking duty and get married or some shit...but I couldn't move on. There's never been anyone else. Harry..."

"Draco," Harry says roughly. "You're a lunatic." He ignores Draco's look, and pulls him in for a rough kiss.

"Is that sick Hollywood slang for, "I love you, stay with me forever?" Draco says rather breathlessly after their kiss.

"It is now," Harry says huskily, biting Draco's neck.

[BREAK!]

"What the hell did you do to your neck?" The photographer screams when he sees Draco's neck, littered with countless bruises. Harry grins.


	8. Dust in the Wind

**9. Dust in the the Wind, Kansas (3:26, played twice! Ha! I can write fast, too!)**

He gazed over the plot again. It was so lonely here, isolated from all the rest of the cemetery. It was...alone. But he was never really among anyone else, was he? What they had was nothing compared to time. He was nothing compared to time. It seemed like in a blink of an eye they had came, loved, and then...

It was all blown away. He was lonely here, too. He never seemed to grow old, never seemed to get out of that seventeen-year-old mindset of loving him. They were so right, but then...he was gone. It wasn't even the war, that god damn war that killed him, it was...an enemy of the war. They had slipped away...and not even money, or courage, or anything he had could bring him back!

Everything was dust. His empire, his friends, everything they had or did or said or were...they were gone. He could still hear his laugh and feel his touch, but it was just the wind, as usual. He sat. The plot still seemed fresh, although it was seven years since anyone had last seen his face. It seemed like the moment was always just out of his reach. All of their dreams had just...dissipated.

There was nothing left. They were gone. Their love was nothing, just one tiny diamond in a field of stars. He sighs. He never was the best at letting go. Too many scars...even the ones that had faded still feel that sting, of what never was. There was nothing...he kept dwelling on what hardly was, but that hardly was the most important.

He had been told not to hang on. They couldn't have lasted forever. But they could have at least tried, dammit! He lays over where is body is, was, rotting, dust now, too. Worm food. Nothing. But everything...Harry Potter looks up into the stars and wishes his Draco was next to him, instead of in a box underneath him.


	9. Betrayed

**10. Betrayed, Avenged Sevenfold (6:47, played seven times through.) **

It was the final battle, and there wasn't anything left but Voldemort and Harry Potter. The rest of the Death Eaters were dead, rendered unconscious, or busy with the Order, the same with the Order. And it was just Harry and Voldemort. Two opposite equals, magic making them equals. There wasn't anything left, Nagini laying in the middle of their small dueling circle, the last piece of a terrible puzzle, a puzzle which took far too long to complete.

"It's you're last move," Voldemort hisses, glaring at Harry with full hatred. But Harry always saw the respect and passion in his eyes, and the way he lived this fight, reveled in it. Harry knew this because he felt the same way. It was the true end.

Suddenly, there was a green flash, unexpected in every shape and form, and Voldemort collapsed. Harry knew he was dead. And he hadn't performed a single spell. The field went quiet, not anyone dared to make a sound nor motion. Draco Malfoy walked into the dueling circle.

"I did it for you, you know," he says, as easily as though he opened a door or held out a chair to Harry.

"It was my destiny," Harry says back. "It was my turn."

"He was my entire life," Draco says. "I needed to end this. I needed this." He lowered his wand. "Fuck destiny and prophecies and premonitions. All there is is our actions. I'm not going to not do anything simply because we have to follow some complete asinine bullshit called a prophecy."

With his harsh words, the spell is broken, and the people around Harry and Draco turn to their opponents, the Death Eaters lowering wands as the Order raises them. The Death eaters flock to Draco, disbelief clear on their faces.

"Master, Master," they chant. "Lord Voldemort!" They bow to him. Harry looks incredulous. "Death is not always evil," Draco calls to the crowd of bewildered Order members and praising Death Eaters. "We'll build a new order, an order that will take down the Ministry and raise a new empire. The only question is..." He turns to Harry. "Will you join or oppose?"

"What's going on?" Harry calls over the chants. Draco raises a hand, and all of the former Death Eaters instantly still and quiet.

"Come with me," Draco says. "I'll explain everything."

[PAGE BREAK!]

"Tom Riddle is not the first Tom Riddle. He merely decided to take the name. But Lord Voldemort is the only title I've inherited. I rather like my name, actually. But that's different.

"Horcruxes don't exist. There have been many faces to Tom Riddle and Lord Voldemort. Seven. They have all killed the old Master or taken over after one has died, as successor. If one of our own kill the Lord while he is alive, the victor automatically gets the title. If they die in duty, or naturally -that's happened once- their successor takes over. But being successor doesn't guarantee the Lord title. Understand?" Harry dumbly nods.

"The successor to this Lord Voldemort was my father," Draco murmurs.

"It's never been the actual person that's been important, but the title itself instills fear upon the masses. It's what kept the Death Eaters powerful. Haven't you noticed the subtitles between them? The original Tom Riddle was good at Charms, the second, Transfiguration. Charms, Potions, Hexes, Jinxes, and Transfiguration. We've all memorized them as children of Death Eaters.

"These people who taken on the duty to be Voldemort, they've never had to keep this madness going. They've just been brainwashed to follow it blindly, to keep the goal of ruling darkly alive. I'm going to change that.

"It's the Ministry that I want destroyed. I want it gone, eradicated, done away with it. I want that entire building to burn. That's the new direction of Lord Voldemort the Eighth. Their laws and so-called regulations are all a sick farce, and I won't stand for it any longer. They're just tearing apart magical society, and it makes me sick." Draco pauses, looking over the place where they've Apparated to, a dark, dank cave with sparse furnishings littering the stone cavern.

"I suppose you're wondering why the Death Eaters themselves haven't fallen apart because everyone wants the title. It's simple, really. They don't want it. They're smart enough to know that it's easy to kill Voldemort, but impossible to actually become the title. That's the difference. The rules have always been in place, since the first Tom Riddle. There have been three Riddles since then, but that's besides the point as well.

"After the first died when you came into being, his successor put in place the contest rule, and was shortly killed. But he was only around for two months before the third, and the third lasted for only a week before we overthrew him, and put in place another. The Death Eaters knew then that we couldn't just keep killing out leaders, and most swear never to kill the Voldemort who takes over. That's why I'm only the second non-successor.

"So, now that you know, what do you think? I value your opinion. I know a bit about your position on the Ministry. But..." Draco looks over to Harry, sitting next to him on a hard bench that he supposed was a couch. "I know it's a lot to take in."

"Why did you tell me?" Harry asks. "I'm the last person who should know this. You hate me, don't you?"

"I've never hated you, really," Draco says, evenly. "I hated why you rejected me. It's always been in my nature to reject things and be accepted by everyone, but you...you were completely different. It was astounding. That made you fascinating. I think we would have been best friends, but..."

"I should have been in Slytherin," Harry blurts. "I...I..."

"I know," Draco says. "I could see it in your eyes. But you would have been broken by the system of hierarchy in the House. You were better off. Just keep in mind, I've never been your enemy." Draco pauses, glancing over at Harry.

"Let me explain what I lived. I was raised in a Voldemort family, so I never knew any different. It was very natural to be in the mindset, and fundamentally, Voldemort in the very nature was never truly against muggles or destruction of the world. It was like being raised Protestant in a world full of Catholics. They're the same, but structurally different. It was...just a different flavor, but never truly evil.

"All Lord Voldemorts were like a Savior, to protect us, and we listened and we were prosperous. It wasn't a bad life. He was salvation, and it wasn't horrible. I had protective, loving parents, a good house, everything I wanted...I never saw any of it as evil. Do you understand?"

"Have you always planned on taking over as Lord Voldemort?" Harry asks. Draco shakes his head.

"Never. I had faith that you would defeat this one. He was...a true monster. He's been in place four years, since the Triwizard fiasco. I'll explain that, later, too. Lots of what muggles call smoke and mirrors.

"But, I had to kill him. He was everything, despite who he was...I didn't want to be dependent on him anymore. I couldn't do it. I needed to be the release." Draco looks away.

"I...it's strange, you know that?" Harry says, bewildered. "I don't know what to say. I go from thinking I have to kill the most evil creature to ever have walked, to...sitting by a fire with my former annoyance, talking over tea about the inner workings of the very things I was sent, trained to defeat? And why do you tell me these things?"

At this Draco looks away, into the cold fireplace. "Because I'm in love with you," he finally whispers, turning his eyes back into Harry's gaze. Harry can feel the passion burning in his eyes, and he starts to burn inside, almost like a new sun was rising right before his very eyes.

"I-I don't know when it started, this feeling...I had this feeling of aggression towards you, but then I wanted to be aggressive in a different way...that's when I knew I was in a bloody mess.

"The Malfoy family isn't about pureblood status or the procreation of the master race. It's all been a lie. I'm no pureblood. Our family's been supposedly "tainted" since...since I don't know when. Malfoy's have had Muggle blood in them since the Northern Renaissance. My father is a half-blood. My mother is a pureblood by chance. They don't care who they marry, they don't care who we love. The only reason I don't have a twenty other siblings is because Mother had ovarian cancer.

"That being said, we always know who we love before most people even think about sex or serious relationships and the like." Draco looks away again, blushing. "I fell in love with you in Fourth Year. I know when it happened, too, when you were in that lake and you had to find the one who was "the most precious to you." I remember being moody and then I realized it was because it wasn't me down in that lake. And when you didn't come up...Merlin, I was going crazy. It was making me physically ill to think of you drowned, or killed by the Merpeople or the Giant Squid.

"I knew I had to kill him to release myself from the thought of having to be under him my entire life. But I also knew I had to kill him because I needed insurance that you would keep living," Draco looks Harry in the eye and he smiles, a soft, beautiful smile that Harry had never seen on Draco before, ever.

"Why would you lie to everyone about your status?" Harry asks, ignoring his startling confession to mull it over some more.

"Because the Ministry listened to families with blood purer that diamonds, and with diamonds to back them up," Draco answers immediately. "You really know nothing about the Ministry, and it shows. That's why we needed to keep up the facade of this...farce of a governmental system. To give everyone a right. To let the people choose, really choose. Fudge, and Scrimgour? They have blood so blue I'm surprised they weren't mentally stunted from all of this so-called pureblood inbreeding. Now that I think about it, they probably were mentally stunted.

"But when I take over the Ministry, when I burn it to the ground, really, that will all change. But I need you by my side, I need you more than air, more than power, more than anything in life," Draco says.

Harry smiles, sudden and unnervingly. "I know," he says. "I know now."

"Know what?" Draco asks, uneasy with this jarring new turn.

"That I love you," Harry says. "I guess I've always known it. Since...since probably Third Year. Buckbeak? There was just a little second, before this thirteen-year-old mindset that you damn well deserved it, that...that you were hurt. It scared the hell out of me, when you were on the ground, and there was blood. I wanted to hold you close and take away all the hurt and protect you from...everything. But I've ignored it, but I've jumped at the chance to get in a row with you. It was subconscious, but it was there, clearer than anything." Harry moves closer to Draco.

"It was just a matter of time before I realized it," Harry says to Draco, putting a hand on his. "Just a matter of something triggering all of...all of this reevaluating." He kisses Draco then, gently, soothingly, and Draco smiles into the kiss.

"Now, where do we begin?" Harry asks, breaking away.

"Begin what?" Draco asks rather stupidly.

"Joining the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix," Harry says, and grins.

"How do we begin taking down the Ministry?"


End file.
